225 replies to this topic

[Velox]

Velox, I have one important question:

Does it have to be prose, or could I possibly write a poem?

A poem is fine, as long as it's between 400 and 600 words.

[Danska: Shadow Master]

Member Name: Danska: Shadow Master
Theme: Visions
Story: Ihiko's Terror (559 words)

Ihiko sat alone in his hut, staring through the circular window as the fading light sunk below the horizon. He was visibly shaking beneath his mask, his mind filled with strange ideas he could not possibly know. Right in the middle of his work shift he had gained a sudden realisation of things he knew he had never seen and places he had never known. It was strange, to say the least, and disturbing for one so deeply concerned with facts and certainty as he.

He had seen in his mind's eye the great Toa Heiran, first and greatest of all heroes, legend of the Five Isles and champion of the Drakooni Wastes. He had stood tall, power radiating from him in great waves of heat and flame. He held aloft his mighty sword, the sword that had delivered a thousand Matoran from greatest peril, and a thousand more who had never even heard his name. He stood alone in a great expanse of sky and sand, stretching in every direction further than the eye could see. It was a place Ihiko had never been, yet somehow it was as familiar as the shores of his homeland.

Then, suddenly, the Toa's light began to fade. His armour darkened, seeming to lose its vitality and substance. Slowly it faded, until it was nothing more than ash in the wind. The hero of centuries, the Toa who came to be known as both the greatest warrior and greatest peacekeeper these people had ever known, was no more.

It was obvious this vision was of the past. Ihiko knew, as all knew, that this mighty hero had died long ago in a far distant land, felled at last by the many evils he had long kept at bay. Ihiko knew not why he saw this, nor even that what he saw was true. He knew only that he had seen it - that he knew it - and this scared him. Neither logic nor reason could explain how this could come to be.

But that was not the most disturbing thing. No, one fact weighed down on him heavier than any other. It was something he knew beyond any doubt. Something which filled him with great hope and great terror; with great joy and great sorrow. It was a simple fact, coupled with an equally simple observation. But he knew it would change everything.

In the final moments before Heiran had vanished, Ihiko had glanced one more thing. One small, fleeting thing. As the great Toa's mask crumbled before him he saw, without any shadow of a doubt, a face he knew only too well. It was in that moment that he knew, this was more than a vision of the past. It was also a vision of the future. For the face he saw behind the mask, the face he had glimpsed so very briefly, was his.

He knew, in that instant, what his destiny was. He knew where he had to go. He knew what he had to do. Like many before him, he must take up the mantle of Toa. He must wield the raw power of nature itself to protect his people from the evils that lay beyond their shores. He, Ihiko, must become the new protector of the Five Isles.

He had never been more scared in his life.

[Ilyusha Blokfase]

Velox, I have one important question:

Does it have to be prose, or could I possibly write a poem?

A poem is fine, as long as it's between 400 and 600 words.

Well, mine ended up half and half.

I hope that works. xD

[xccj]

Member Name: xccj
Theme: Visions
Story: Finding the Mask of Visions (599 words)

Onua, Toa of Earth, was digging an underground tunnel beneath the Motara Desert. He was searching for the Great Kanohi masks of power, and Turaga Whenua had informed him that the Kanohi Akaka, the mask of visions, was located in a cavern deep beneath the desert. Onua was close to the natural cavern now, and he would break through after just five more minutes of digging.

Suddenly, the tunnel around him began to tremble. Cracks formed in the ceiling, and then a hole was punched through, and sunlight flooded the tunnel. Onua squinted his eyes, unused to the bright light, but noticed the being descending towards him.

“Pohatu?” Onua questioned.

Pohatu, Toa of Stone, dropped through the hole and landed next to Onua, causing the ground to vibrate as he did. “Onua, fancy seeing you here. I’m in search of the Kanohi Akaku, and I believe it’s located nearby.”

“But I am after the mask of visions,” Onua protested. “Whenua told me it would be here!”

“Turaga Onewa specifically told me of this location,” Pohatu countered. “Guess the first one to the mask gets it.”

Onua shook his head. “Well, go shatter tunnels somewhere else. I’ve almost dug through to the cavern, and I’ll be inside in a few minutes.”

“Or I could break through right now!” Pohatu exclaimed. He lifted his large foot and kicked the tunnel wall hard, releasing his elemental energy. The rocks fractured and fell apart, creating an opening to the cavern.

“Race you!” Pohatu said, as he activated his Mask of Speed and zipped into the cavern. Onua pushed through the debris, but he could not keep up with the Toa of Stone.

“The mask is mine!” Pohatu said as he raced across the room. He saw the glint of silver that indicated the Akaku, but suddenly the rock wall reached out and punched him hard. Pohatu was moving too fast to dodge, and the blow threw him back through the air. Onua reached out and caught him before he could slam into the wall.

“A Vatuka!” Onua said. “A stone elemental creature. It must be guarding the mask!”

“I could try running around it…” Pohatu suggested.

“Allow me instead,” Onua said, charging forward. He lashed out at the Vatuka with his claws, but they hardly scraped its stone skin. With a mighty shove, the Vatuka knocked Onua back.

“Tough luck,” Pohatu said. “Neither of us can defeat this thing!”

“Perhaps if we work together,” Onua suggested. “I can match its strength, so while I’m distracting it, zip in and grab the mask!”

“But then who will get it?”

“We’ll decide later,” Onua said, and he attacked again. He grabbed onto the Vatuka’s arms and activated his Mask of Strength to keep them pinned down. Meanwhile, Pohatu raced around the Vatuka and snatched up the prize.

“Get out of there!” Pohatu yelled as he ran for the exit.

“I agree,” Onua said, and utilizing all his strength, he pushed back the Vatuka and retreated. The Vatuka took a moment to get back up, but found itself facing two Toa, who released a combined elemental blast of earth and stone which caused the cavern to collapse. The Toa returned to the surface while the Vatuka was buried in the cave-in.

“That was excellent!” Pohatu exclaimed. “Teaming up sure works out!”

“Yes, but now we must decide who gets the mask of visions,” Onua said.

“No need,” Pohatu said, holding out his hands. “It turns out there were two Akaku masks down there. One for each of us!”

“Then Mata Nui smiles upon us,” Onua said.

[Dallas Winston]

Name: Tyler Durden
Theme: Visions
Story: I See Everything (Word Count: 597)

Everybody’s always yammering on about clairvoyance.

Oh, they say, it’s brilliant! Imagine everything you could foresee, everything you could change, everyone you could meet, the things you could do! You could become a rich man, meet the girl of your dreams, find out how you’re going to die…

If you could find out how you’re going to die, would you want to?

See, the thing is, clairvoyance isn’t a gift at all. It isn’t something you sign up for one day and then wait a week to see if you were approved to receive it. This “gift” of mine, well, let me tell you, it’s not a bloody job interview. It isn’t a weekend retreat. This hurts.

A lot.

I got my visions the old fashioned way: I had to die for them. When I died, I went to the afterlife and got stuck in some sort of hold up on the way. My soul, or whatever passes for one, must have gone ahead in time and saw into what can only be my future and the futures of those associated with me, and now at random times, I start to experience what I’ve seen, what I’m about to do, and the outcomes of the choices I make.

And they’re not pretty.

When I created this new body, this strapping, well-dressed Toa of Iron that my soul inhabited and took for its own, I had no clue the limitations of what it could handle. These things – these visions – they’re attacking my psyche from the inside out, tearing away at it like a virus. Eventually, the experts on the occult and the paranormal tell me, they’ll blow out the back of my head completely. Picture me grinning really, really wide right now, like a painted doll before some foolish little girl drops her and cracks her porcelain head open, spilling out the contents of her head onto the cold, marshy ground below. Already, I’m unable to convey my thoughts, once so eloquent and brilliant and witty, into verbal sounds; I’m forced to write out what I feel and show it to anyone who may actually care enough to listen.

That list is rapidly dwindling.

Every now and then, I can gibber out some future phrase, some insignificant Freudian slip that may mean something to somebody someday, but nobody ever realizes it.

Rosebud.

Picture the story of every prophet you’ve ever heard of. Now picture the ending of that story.

Spoiler alert: they all die.

There’s a reason for this simple yet disturbing occurrence, a rather simple that holds for every seer in any culture of any time period. Those who are blessed – or cursed – with the gift of foresight are often either shunned, murdered, or drive themselves to suicide so they don’t have to contemplate the cold, harsh realities of their lives. These visions, for these people, they’re escapism for suckers.

Thing is, that kind of delusion only lasts for so long before it begins to shatter, break around you, until you’re nothing but a caricature of yourself, a foreboding and ghostly reminder that you once meant something to someone. That’s what happened to me, and there’s not a day I don’t wish it away.

Too late for that, though. Every time I get a vision, I start to wonder, is this it?

Is this the one?

I’m nothing but a porcelain doll at this point, and I don’t care anymore.

I can feel it now: there’s another flash coming, another image floating through my head, and I can already feel myself starting to wonder if this -

-Teezy

Edited by Tyler Durden, May 26 2012 - 08:45 PM.

[Katuko]

Member name: Katuko
Theme: Visions
Story: The Florist's Failure (596 words)

Everything is dark. I try to look around, to find some point of reference, but to no avail. I am all alone, unable to see, in the middle of nowhere. I lift my arm upwards, flexing my fingers in front of my face. I can see my gauntlet's dull green metal plating; illuminated by the faintly glowing elemental emitter in my palm. So, I am not blind. I look a bit closer at my hand, and I notice something else. It is wet.

A moment later, a bright flash tears through the blackness, accompanied by loud thunder. Suddenly, I can feel the wind and rain bearing down on me. I am glad I wear a mask, for the smooth surface protects me from the brunt of the storm. I gaze into the distance, trying to make out my surroundings. I can now tell that I am standing in a field, not far from a structure of some kind. Even though I can't remember it, I feel as if there is something I am supposed to do there, something I have long since forgotten. Without a second thought, I begin to walk towards the building.

As I get closer, I can now see that the building is a small storage facility, perfectly rectangular and covered with smooth metal plating. I press myself against the wall to avoid the worst of the howling wind, and search for the door. In the end I find it, and for some reason I am not surprised to find it unlocked. I get inside and shut it behind me, and in an instant the sound of the storm is gone. I am standing in a big, dimly lit room, with yellow lightstones lining the walls on all sides. It appears empty, save for a single object lying in the center of the room. With a hint of a memory in my head, I approach it.

Once I get closer, I can see that the thing is blue and metallic. I crouch down and pick it up. Half of a Kanohi Pakari. How curious. A sudden sense of dread fills me as I look at it, and I tear my eyes away. I look around the room once more... and this time, I shiver. Plants. There are plants everywhere. The entire building looks as if it has been overgrown for years. I turn around again to leave the place, but find that there is just a smooth metal wall in front of me. The door is gone.

I blink, and suddenly the fauna is moving, and the air is filled with the chitter-chatter of leaves rustling and wood being strained. Ivy sprouts beneath my feet. A root catches my foot, and I yank it loose, only to have another shoot up and twist around my waist. I stumble and fall, panic pulsing in my head. Another memory hits me, and I reach out with the power I only now remember I have. The plants are torn away from me. I will them to crawl back from whence they came, and soon I am left alone in silence again. I push myself up from the floor, feeling heavier than I ever have before. The mask I found lies in front of me. I meet its empty gaze, and its half of a mouth whispers to me: "Why did you fail me?"

I wake with a start, to find my fellow Toa standing around me. I wave them off without a word. There is no need to trouble them anymore than I have already done...

Edited by Katuko, May 26 2012 - 09:10 PM.

[GSR]

Member name: GSR
Theme: Visions
Story: The Last Dangerous Visions (428 words)

At times, Turaga Vakama dreamt of stars.

He dreamt of space completely unbounded, of planets and galaxies and universes stretching out beyond comprehension, packed with stories and struggles and losses and victories and life and danger.

And then he would open his eyes and see the walls of his hut in New Atero, the torch in the corner of the room flickering and casting shadows across the wall.

At times he would lift himself from where he slept, take his staff, and hobble out into the streets of their city, a hodgepodge of half-finished buildings, and walk for a while. Matoran and Toa greeted him warmly. Agori and Glatorian greeted him cordially - but that was good enough.

Once he was startled to find an old friend on a walk of her own, staff in one hand, tablet in another, heading back from a long night at the school, and together they walked and spoke of days gone by and days yet to come.

She never asked him if he still had visions, and so he never told her of his stars.

Another time he came upon the Toa he'd almost come to think of as family, and the two of them walked and he listened to his son describe the struggles he still faced in uniting the Agori and Matoran.

And his son never asked him if he still had visions, and so he never told him that his stars were getting smaller, that at night he no longer saw galaxies or universes, only a single planet, and he never told him that he feared that perhaps the planet was theirs.

But another time he stumbled upon two Toa he'd known well even as Matoran, and simply smiled and shook his head as the former Ga-Matoran insisted that she'd just been getting some dirt off her companion's mask, which was as red and unblemished as ever. And the three walked and he offered a few old tales to them, because that was what was expected.

And they never asked him if he still had visions, and so he never told them that yes, he did, but it was alright.

That night he bade them farewell and returned to his hut, leaned his staff against the small forge he kept, and laid himself down to rest. And he dreamt of a planet so far away, of its cities that put Metru Nui to shame and of heroes and villains, and when Turaga Vakama awoke he smiled, because it had nothing at all to do with any of them.

Edited by GSR, May 26 2012 - 09:16 PM.

[Lego Junkie]

Member name: Lego Junkie
Theme: Visions
Story: Destiny.


Up, down, up, down.

The tendon in my arm writhes like a snake, changing shape and contorting as I relax and contract my arm. The dark shadows surround me whispering and taunting. Visions of ancestors long dead and forgotten. Electricity snakes along my arm, turning the sweat beading the skin to glowing specks of light.
"Many have tried, none have succeeded." They whisper as one voice, "You will only suffer pain and sorrow if you try to complete this trial. Do not be a fool..."

Up, down.

The minuscule orbs of light flicker and sends tiny shocks down my arm.
The waves crash onto rocks, many yards below. The light spray floating in the air catches the moonlight before it settles and coats my face, stinging slightly. It then joins my sweat, glowing faintly.

The wind roars, waves crash, my heart beats steadily, keeping time with the waves. A wall extends skywards in front of me, mossy and glinting with slime in the faint light. I reach out and brush it with the tips of my fingers, sending a faint pulse of electricity up the wall, the tendrils quickly fade away to nothingness.

"Do not be a fool youngling, you are the best hope we have. Do not waste it. "

Up, down.

The wind suddenly fades into a whisper, encouraging me on to the top of the world. The stillness makes the dark shadows clouding my mind anxious, the darkness begins to swirl, making my head ache. A massive wave crashes into the dark wall below, coating me in salt water and blinding me. Lightning explodes outwards and away from my body as it jumps from water droplet to water droplet, I'm encased in a micro solar-flare.

I shout into the silence, "This future is mine to grasp! I shall take it and make it my own!"
The shadows still, whispering among themselves.
The brightness fades, shrinking back into my soaked and trembling frame.


Then I jump, tendrils of lightning flow through my hands, snaking into the massive wall before me and pulling me upwards. Chips of stone fly, glowing white-hot in the darkness. The wall race past me at tremendous speeds, green and grey blur together to form a mess of flashing colors.
The power surging through me instantly disappears, my momentum from my upward climb stays with me for a moment, and then it's gone. Gravity sucks at my legs, pulling me downwards, to a certain death on those massive boulders.
My arms flail, searching for something to grab onto to stop my body from falling.
"I will not fail. I cannot fail."

My scrabbling fingers find purchase, and my arms scream in protest.
Then I climb.
Hours pass as I slowly inch my way up the sheer cliff-face, time seems endless, the only thing that allows me to know that time is still flowing by is the rumble of the ocean beneath me.

The edge takes me by surprise, my fingers reach upwards expecting to find more rock, finding nothing, only air.
Shaking, I pull myself up and over the edge, collapsing into a heap on top of the world.
The power that so suddenly left me at the start of the climb enters my veins, now laced with something stronger, more powerful.

I have found the vision.
I will become a god.
Surges of power enter me and I send them into the stone beneath me. The enormous tower that stalked generations of my race begins to crumble, falling into the sea of blackness.

The vision is mine.

I laugh.

Edited by Lego Junkie, May 26 2012 - 09:35 PM.

[Toa Sonis]

Member Name: Toa Sonis
Theme: Visions
Story: Hope is Freedom (Word Count: 598)

A mysterious being stood on a golden beach. The land before him was beautiful and untamed, though small footprints in the sand showed signs of habitation. It was a small island, but the newcomer decided it would serve his purposes. As the being took another step further onto the land that would be his home, a strange rahi slithered out of the minute boat floating on the breakers. It undulated up to the being, and he laughed as he stroked one of its two heads.

“If only they knew what I know.”

Hours later, a Le-Matoran gathering driftwood came across large tracks on his island's western shore. It was a sandy place compared to the other coasts, and for once he was glad for the loose grit. Le-Matoran are excellent trackers, and he was no exception. But as the Matoran peered at the textured ground, he noticed something intertwined with the footprints. It was the unmistakable charred path of a rare lava viper.

The villager returned to his home in fear. He felt the need to inform his village elder of his discovery. As he neared the Turaga of Le-Koro's home, a friend called out to him.

“What's the quickrush about, Aran? The leafparty begins soon! Everyone is there. Even Wiseone Humil has left his halls to participate in the festivities.”

This stopped the Matoran in his tracks. Aran began to run the other way, towards the village's gathering place. As he raced towards his friend, he paused.

“I saw a lava viper's path on the beach today, beside the trail of another being. Both had melted some of the sand beneath them, and you know the forest is hotdry this seasoncycle!”

Even as Aran finished his warning, the two Matoran heard distant shouts. They ran and swung along branches as they raced to the celebration grounds. Though it had taken them mere minutes, to the two Le-Matoran it felt like an eternity before they stood beside their kinsmen. Turaga Humil turned to face them.

“Sorrybad news has come from the borderlands. The forest is aflame!”

Though Aran's friend raced off immediately to fight the fire, the tracker himself felt compelled to tell his Turaga of what he had discovered. When he was done, Humil shook his head in sorrow.

“I forsee much sorrow in Le-Koro's future,” he said. “I have had visiondreams that speak of sorrybad times like this. I think I will not be with you much longer. But remember, Aran: good will triumph over evil. Someday there shall be Toa, and they will fightbeat this threat!”

A few months after Aran found the being's prints on the beach, that same mysterious newcomer conquered the island. His first action after taking over the villages was to execute all the Turaga, so the Matoran would have no one to rally behind. It worked, and for about a thousand years the island villagers were kept under his control. During this time the Toa - Dark Hunter war was fought in Metru Nui, and fresh from it many Toa returned to their homes. But a team of six took to the seas, fighting scattered forces of evil throughout the universe. As they were sailing to the Southern Continent years later, a violent storm wrecked their ship and flung them to a small island off the continent's coast. Remnants of the maelstrom knocked them unconscious on the same golden beach the island's tyrannical ruler had stepped ashore on so many years before.

And it was there that Turaga Humil's vision to Aran came true.

[The Novelist Called Nuile]

Member Name: Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith
Theme: Visions
Story: Jungle Beauty (600 words)


A lone Kewa emitted a raucous cry tinged with weariness. It soared over the jungle canopy with effortless grace, gliding on the breeze until the air currents carried it to the tree where rested its fellows among the high branches, safe from the predators of the night. The branches swayed gently in the wind, rocking its tenants to sleep.

Elsewhere, other avian Rahi were settling among the treetops for the night. Below, hidden by the verdure, the diurnal creatures of the jungle were settling in their knotholes and burrows, while the nocturnal creatures awakened from their slumbers to revel in the darkness.

From the heights of the Great Tree, the jungle spread out in every direction, transcended by the twin peaks to the northeast, framed by a strip of blue to the west and to the south. But everywhere else it was green; tree after tree after tree, of a number greater than can be measured, of varieties more numerous than can be named. It was endless, boundless; it teemed with life.

Yet I knew the number of trees, though I could not count them. I knew the name of each Rahi, though I could not list them. I knew the jungle, because I felt the jungle, because I was one with the jungle--because the jungle was one with me. Because I am the jungle.

The panorama laid artistically before me was a vision. Here was beauty beyond compare, a magical world where everything was perfectly coordinated, perfectly planned, and adhering to a strict law; yet simultaneously untamed and unpredictable.

Both predator and prey and every tree and every stone had a purpose in this jungle. Equilibrium here reigned supreme. The predators hunt and kill, consume their prey; but when at last they die, the jungle consumes them. The jungle absorbs the dead, giving it new life through the trees and foliage; food for the herbivores. The hierarchy begins and ends in the same place.

The jungle is one. Everything within it has a position where it is necessary. And I had my position: hero of the jungle.

But to grow and thrive the jungle requires water. It feeds the jungle, every drop that falls from the sky, every stream that flows through its veins. Flora and fauna both are sustained and balanced by the water. Without the water, the jungle would die. It is the water that gives the jungle its beauty.

I had once been in thirst of this sustenance, a thirst which I had not realized I was afflicted. I had drunk in the beauty and the vitality of this element, that most vital Water; I had been given new life through it. But then I had lost it. And it had taken with it the life the jungle held for me.

The jungle I had once loved, called my home, my life; was dead. Each leaf had shriveled, every tree trunk had withered and collapsed. The Rahi had fallen into slumber. The whispers of the jungle were dulled and no longer fell upon my ears. Around me it was alive; but within I had lost my love for it when I had pushed away the love I cherished.

The jungle around me was a vision. But the vision in my eyes was a short, gracile figure; a blue Kaukau; a glowing smile; eyes that twinkled with effervescence.

This night I did not feel like king of the jungle. I was not one with it. I murmured to the stars, "I am no hero. I am no jungle. I am but sorry, Hahli. . . ."

[Ilyusha Blokfase]

You get 48 hours to post up your story, so that it overlaps to give some others more time.

Also, good luck to everybody for the first round.

[~Kodan~]

Member Name: ~Kodan~
Theme: Visions
Story: Revenge (Word Count: 599)

Prothotix and the other Matoran sprinted towards the wall of the massive dome they’d called home. They were finally within sight of the cave that would liberate them from their universe and Teridax’s tyranny. Since his coup, each moment had been a nightmare. Ordinarily, the villagers would have relied upon Turaga Viidenz’s Mask of Clairvoyance for guidance, but to their horror, no visions came. The Matoran had almost given up hope until Prothotix had wandered into their village a week ago. The villagers, under normal circumstances, were wary of outsiders, but when they had learned that their fellow Matoran was a seer whose visions had shown him an escape route, they gladly put all their doubts aside.

“Come on,” urged Prothotix, “We’re almost there!”

The group surged forward. The cave was only a few yards off now--

They came to an abrupt halt as a band of Skakdi emerged from all sides.

“Keep back, little ones!” shouted the Turaga as he fearlessly attempted to shepherd the Matoran behind him, although they were hopelessly outmatched. Prothotix, however, strode forward to join the Skakdi.

“Prothotix,” Viidenz demanded, “what is the meaning of this?”

“You fool!” scoffed one of the Skakdi. “He’s a con artist, not a seer!”

“Afraid so,” confirmed a smirking Prothotix. “And when your passage to salvation is guarded by a horde of cannibal Skakdi, you offer them whatever they want.”

He strode away. “Forgive my lack of compassion,” he called over his shoulder, “but it’s ill advised in my line of work.”

“Prothotix!” The Matoran looked back as the Turaga’s commanding voice rang out behind him. Viidenz stared at him grimly, his mask glowing. “Beware the armored demons in the waste.”

Prothotix laughed and walked away. “Your visions are meaningless now, Turaga!” He weaved his way through the cave and into the sunlit desert on the other side. Pleased with how well his scheme had worked, he smiled, and began looking for some sign of civilization, yet found none.

As he stopped to scan the horizon, he saw three shapes to the West. It was hard to make them out, but they appeared to be Toa. Encouraged, Prothotix began to run in their direction. As he drew closer, the shapes became clearer. Although they looked like Toa, he could now see that they weren’t. He slowed his pace as he noticed one of the figures was covered in spiked, blue armor. The Turaga’s prophecy suddenly came back to him. He’d brushed it off as just a lie to frighten him, but Viidenz couldn’t lie while having a vision . . . could he? Prothotix began to run eastward, hoping he’d gone unnoticed. To his dismay, the three beings were pointing in his direction. Terrified, he broke into a sprint, but as the beings did the same, he realized he couldn’t outrun them. His pursuers were shouting now, and he shut his eyes as fear consumed his mind completely.

Suddenly, he felt the ground vanish beneath his feet, opened his eyes, and screamed as he went hurtling from a cliff.

The “armored demons” stopped at the edge of the cliff and looked down at Prothotix’s broken body.

“Why did he run?” asked Tarix the Glatorian in dismay. “Couldn’t he see we were just trying to help him?”

***

Prothotix laughed and walked away. “Your visions are meaningless now, Turaga!”

“Turaga?” Viidenz turned to one his frightened Matoran as the power of his mask faded away. “What did you see?”

“Oh, nothing little one.” Viidenz smiled and put his arm around him, watching his “prophecy” lead their betrayer to his doom.

“Nothing at all.”

[Velox]

Well, mine ended up half and half.

I hope that works. xD

That's fine.

Sorry if it was addressed in the first post but I couldn't find anything - how long do we have before the end of the first theme?

48 hours from the start. I forgot to put an actual deadline time to make it easier; I'll go edit that in. So, for an exact time: May 27th, 11:59 PM EST. But the second theme will be starting May 26th, 11:59 PM EST (or close thereto), so there's an overlap.

[Cederak]

Member Name: Cederak
Theme: Visions
Story: Omnipotent (Word Count: 400)



Phylox examined his glimmering sword again, swinging it through the air. It was light like air and deadly sharp. He had never been the bravest Glatorian and his tribe's acquisition of the mysterious, silvery liquid had been won completely without his assistance. Even his tribe's Agori had gone into battle to serve the Element Lord of Ice and preserve their dominance by holding on to the precious substance. Phylox was not a warrior by nature, more of a coward really. It was only after seeing what the liquid had done to his meager blade, after seeing it return to the surface as a shining tool that moved like an extension of himself, Phylox knew what he wanted next.

The liquid was always under security, to ensure other tribes and their Element Lord leaders would not take it from them. For a Glatorian of ice, however, the greatest difficulty he would face was deciding whether to lead with his left or right foot. The guards casually let him through on the pretense that Phylox wished to study the liquid's abilities. No one viewed him as a threat - not in the past and certainly not today. His journey down to the substance was an uneventful one, full of half-dreamed aspirations and nightmares born from a life of inadequacy and weakness.

Once Phylox was standing before the liquid again, he stared for quite a while, holding his gift from the gleaming liquid at his side. He felt very connected to the substance in their silent relationship. The great makers had bestowed elemental power onto one of his own already, but the liquid was capable of so much more. Through it, perhaps Phylox could become a maker. Since the Core War's inception, Phylox had dreamed of ending his tribe's enemies in a glorious display of power. He looked at the sword again and smirked. With that weapon, he would reign supreme. Phylox would crush their frosty Element Lord like snowflakes beneath his heel and conquer Spherus Magna for the Ice Tribe.

Phylox grinned, staring at his reflection in the silvery pool. Through the faint ripples, Phylox could see himself, he could see grand visions of tearing the world asunder through a pair of eccentric eyes. It was time. Phylox placed his sword onto his back and ran headlong for the liquid. He dove in and prepared himself for divinity.

The liquid consumed him.

[Velox]

Member Name: Velox
Theme: Visions
Word Count: 600
Story: Tormenting Chimera

Tormenting Chimera

I slammed the glass down on the wooden table before me. I flicked my wrist at the waitress that was walking by, saying simply, “Another.” She nodded and quickly hurried off toward the bar, her flaxen hair flowing gracefully.

The other barflies around me stared, but I continued to look ahead, a snarl on my face and a fire in my eyes. The glowing firelight from the various lamps throughout the room lighted my face like the sunset. The flames flickered ominously in the shadows throughout the room. The dim lighting was plentiful enough to be able to see, but dark enough to not bestow any cheer.

It was perfect. I took another puff from my wooden pipe, the leaves glowing like embers, before slowly releasing the wispy smoke. The new glass came, and I slid the old one to join the others; a cluster of glasses that I had already drunken from. I took a sip and immediately warmth flowed through my being. The only sort of jubilance I would have this evening, the intoxicating, inebriating liquid providing it.

It was another of those nights. A night where the nightmares emerged and the visions screamed. Forcing more guilt upon me. Relentlessly grabbing ahold of my very soul and never letting go, consuming my being. Haunting me. Devouring the life from me.

And so I drank, drank until the sorrows just floated away. But they never did. As I took another sip from the glass, immediately my mind was thrown into the past; a vision of a previous time, an earlier life.

Then the horrific screams came. There was nothing I could do, nothing at all to rid the shrieking from my mind. I covered my ears with my hands, thrashing wildly, but the cries continued, merciless. Wrapping themselves around my mind as though they were physical objects, tentacles. The other barflies were staring again, thinking me mad. But they had no idea. No clue as to what I was going through, what I went through almost every night.

The images began. First only spurts of blood, flying off from a midpoint in every direction. Then they began to clear, focusing in my mind. I saw a man clearly, kneeling by a post, his back turned to me. Then the whips, ripping into his skin again and again; the source of the blood. The image rotated, and suddenly I saw his face. In all its clarity, explicitness. The face of my best friend. He looked up at me, his eyes burning with rage and pain. They screamed at me, and without him saying a word I knew what he was thinking: “You did this to me.”

A chain hung from his neck, bearing two dogtags; a sign of our brotherhood, of the organization we belonged to. The Order of Mata Nui. And I betrayed him.

I ran a finger across my back, feeling the scars. They had tortured me for weeks, but finally I broke as any man eventually did.

His eyes pierced my heart, and I knew I had failed him. Failed to uphold my honor. I had talked. It didn’t matter that the Dark Hunters had the most ruthless interrogators – I failed to protect him and my unit.

Finally, the vision released its grip on my mind and I was thrown back into the bar, screaming. The other patrons looked at me worriedly before returning to their merry laughter, just another night out in town. Something I could never have again, not as long as these visions plagued me. I set my glass back down on the table.

[55555]

Member Name: 55555
Theme: Visions
Wordcount: 595
Story: I am Ringatoi, a Ko-Matoran and an artist. I have spent hour after hour in the burning of the twin suns, painstakingly creating art in Mata Nui's honor. The sand burned under my feet, my tools shone with sweat and sunshine. I liked to think that the suns were his eyes looking down on me appraising and (I imagined) approving of my efforts.

We of ice are not an artistic people as a rule. We are given to the contemplation and the evaluation that often accompanies the mindset of creative Matoran, but instead we turn our talents to a more introspective work, that of prophecy.

And then, it hit me.

I don't know if I fell to my knees, it felt more as though I fell from the world, or flew upward from it.

It was a view from on high, Metru Nui lay in ruins, strange webs graced the half fallen towers. A haze lay over the land, concealing the streets, but one could still make out the slight movement of arachnid beings. I examined it in a strangely detached manner, noting each element, purposefully dedicating each tone and line to memory.

Then the it disappeared, and was replaced by a vision of a new land. Here there was only one sun, and it shone more brightly than any sun of Metru Nui. Partially silhouetted by the rising sun was a fleet of airships, their prows pointing towards the virgin sands.

Another image became apparent, a low view of a council at a great Kini, six Turaga and many Matoran. If this island had any dangers in store for these villagers, they must face it alone, unaided by the powers of Toa. I looked among the Matoran, and I saw familiar faces. Eyrhe, Tama, Punga, and the infamous Takua. But where was Nuju? Or for that matter, where was I? Perhaps we did not survive the coming of the Webs.

The vision flashed once more. I saw a gathering of Matoran, Turaga and... six Toa? Written above them, in letters of fire, were the names Tahu, Kopaka, Lewa, Gali, Pohatu and Onua. I carefully memorized the names and the imagery, the scene backlit by the westering sun, the jungle trees and the high mountains on the horizon..

Then suddenly the blackness rose up again, and feeling returned to my limbs. I became aware of my surroundings, I was still in Ko-Metru, and nearly home.

I got to my feet quickly and sprinted into my abode, grabbing my brushes and containers of paint, then hurrying to the Tower of Prophecies.

I walked with my eyes forward, trying to keep the images sharp in my mind, bumping into people as I made for the ground floor of the Tower.

I reached my destination, the bluish white wall of the tower spread invitingly before me. I set down my paints, wet my brush, and made the first stroke.

The curving lines of the great Webs, the destruction of the Knowledge Towers and the Sculpture fields...

Matoran strode by, I was only dimly aware of their exclamations. First angry, then awed as the pictures took form.

The airships black against the sun, the lush forests and bright waters of the new island... Each Matoran I had seen at the gathering, the six strange Turaga, the tall spires of the Kini... And finally the arrival of the Toa, the hopes of the Matoran realized...

I took a white brush and with a flick of my wrist, made the symbol of Mata Nui at the top. My work was done.

[Thunder on the Mountain]

Member Name: Thunder on the Mountain
Theme: Visions
Word Count: 593
Story: The Beach

...all that remains is faith...

Taylor was on a beach.

How he got there, he didn’t know. There were no footprints that led to where he stood now. At his back there was an ocean, and no boat was in sight. He was bone-dry, clothing and all, so he had not washed ashore.

It was painfully, confusingly simple. He had merely appeared here. Spontaneously, without reason. For a man who made a living off solving mysteries such as this, the feeling of not knowing how this happened felt like to spike in his mind.

There was yelling. Screaming. Children in the distance. Taylor’s ears perked to the sound, and suddenly it didn’t matter how he had gotten here. There were kids in trouble, and he was a man of the law. His first job was to help those kids, wasn’t it? Before his duty to himself came a duty to...well...other people.

He stepped forward through the sand, and his hand instinctively reached for his handgun. His fingers brushed past his hip, without catching on any equipment. Taylor halted in his steps, and looked down. He still bore his long coat. All his clothing, his tie, even his badge. But his firearm was no longer there. He had no defense.

The screaming drew nearer and Taylor looked up. To his distress, six children came running over the beach ridge. Behind them was a storm cloud. How had he not noticed it before? A massive, black storm cloud, cloaking the landscape in its shadows. These shadows snapped at the children’s heels, chasing them across the sandy beach. There were no people pursuing them, only the onyx presence overhead and the darkness it spread below.

“Get behind me!” he called out instantly, rushing to the children’s aid. “Run, swim, burrow in the sand. Just get away!” The children obediently ran to his first command, gathering behind his back and huddling together. But as for his second demand, they showed no efforts to go further in their escape, merely standing still behind him as if waiting for him to cast off the shadows.

Taylor grimaced again, lost for what to do. He looked to the shadows, which seemed to hesitate for a minute. As if debating whether to pursue him. When no better ideas occurred to him, Taylor decided to move first. He stepped directly into the shadows, showing no fear or emotion as he did so.

What struck him was a mix of frost, wind, force, and sheer darkness that overcame his vision. When his eyes recovered, Taylor found himself at the feet of the children. He groaned in pain. This was something beyond him. He couldn’t battle the shadows...

He didn’t attempt to tell that to the children. Before he could speak, the children were already hefting him to his feet, leaving him to once again face the now oncoming shadow. Alone.

It was then that he noticed his hands. In a moment of panic, he attempted to shake away the red-hot flame that seemed to envelope them. But the flames would not disappear. They did not scald his skin. He didn’t even feel the heat.

With the shadows now at his feet, Taylor did the only thing left he could think of. He threw his hands down above the flame, holding a faint hope the flames would force back the shadows.

In a relieving but confusing twist of fate, they did. The flames receded, trailing away at the same pace they had come...

Where wisdom and valor fail, all that remains is faith.

Edited by Thunder on the Mountain, May 26 2012 - 11:11 PM.

[Velox]

Alrighty, guys, here it is:

Theme #2

Deadline: May 28th, 11:59 PM EST -- remember to post your entries in that topic! Also remember that we are still accepting entries for "Visions"!

[Tolkien]

Member Name: Tolkien
Theme: Visions
Word Count: 599
Story: The Sight

The Sight

They were coming. He knew it. Faint footsteps in the hall…a sound of whispered voices…metal rasping against stone. He was discovered again, after all this time. He had to get away. They were coming!

Shui bolted up from the bed, suddenly awake. His eyes snapped open, but there was nothing to see—it was night, and darkness filled the room. The street outside was still as he squinted through the shutter. No shadows moved down below. No sound in the hall.

But they would be here. They were probably already on the way. If there was anything he had learned in the past century, it was to trust his dreams. Especially the nightmares.

Quick and efficient, with skill born of repetition, Shui gathered his belongings: two small satchels and an iron staff. Nothing more. These days he had to be light, fast, and always ready to run.

He turned to the door, listening carefully before moving into the corridor. He’d be gone before anyone knew.

Down the winding wooden stairs. He dropped two widgets behind the innkeeper’s desk as he moved towards the entrance, then into the street.

His heart raced, despite the fact that he had done this a hundred times. A century of running, and he was good at it too, especially with his Gift. But the Brotherhood was relentless—they did not give up. They needed him—especially him…all for their War against the Six Kingdoms.

Many had been taken—some willingly, others not. After all, it was easy to go along with what the Brotherhood offered…too easy for some.

“No…” Shui had told himself long ago, “No…I will not use this gift in the cause of destruction. The Sight was meant for greater things.”

Through the empty streets he crept, down towards the harbor. His ears strained, listening for sounds of pursuit.

But at length, he stopped to rest. Perhaps he had evaded detection tonight. Tomorrow would be a new day—

—a shock cut his thoughts short, and he fell headlong into darkness...

: : :

His eyes snapped opened. Nothing to see. He tried to move, but his hands were chained. It was a stone cell…a prison. So, he was taken…But before the horror of his situation settled in, a noise broke the stillness:

Faint footsteps in the hall outside the cell…a sound of whispered voices…metal rasping against stone…flint striking steel. A flickering light flashed under the cell door.

Sudden fear seized him, and Shui realized now that he had foreseen this. His own downfall…

The door swung open, light flooding the cell as rough hands hauled him forward. There was a fire burning in the grate in the center of the chamber. But this was no rough hearth—it was an ornate censer, gilded with many symbols. The fire burning there was bright and hot, twisting and hypnotic.

“So,” a cold voice pierced his thoughts, “after all this time…Shui the Seer.”

Shui shivered at the voice of Toa Koh, lieutenant of Makuta Gorast.

“It’s been quite a chase, Seer, but now…you must face your Duty to the Brotherhood.”

“I know my duty, Koh,” Shui replied, defiant, “and it is not to your Brotherhood. My visions will not lead you to victory in war.”

Shui sighed, shutting his eyes tight, “I will not help you.”

“I never expected you would. But either way, you will cooperate.”

Hands seized his head, and his eyes were pried painfully open, filling his field of vision with the burning, hypnotizing fire. The sacred flame filled his mind’s eye as the Sight took hold…

And then the vision ended.

End

(it appears that inspiration does strike the same place twice. yay.)

Edited by Tolkien, May 27 2012 - 12:49 AM.

[///dotcom///]

Member Name: Panty Anarchy
Theme: Visions
Word Count: 596
Story: Mirage

Mirage

“I don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand?”

Toa Arisma glanced at his companions, a couple of Skakdi whose names he did not know, or did not remember. All he truly remembered was his name and a few fragmented memories of a time he knew were from long ago. None of these memories were relevant to him now. Presently, he found himself in an unknown desert, and according to the Skakdi, he had just collapsed. He was confused and more than a little unsettled.

“You say we were traveling this desert together, but I don’t remember either of you. I also don’t understand why we would be trying to reach the other side. Where are we going?”

“You tell us. You have the map. As for why we’re going: there is an important tool on the other side of this desert. We need it to protect the village. We always knew it existed, but had no way to reach it until you found that map. You wouldn’t surrender it to us, so we had to bring you along,” answered the smaller of the two, a silver-armored, smooth talking Skakdi, whose appearance was slightly less savage than that of most of his brethren. Arisma noted that he didn’t seem concerned by his amnesia.

“We must hurry. Night will come soon, and so will the Rahi who stalk the dark,” said the other one, a teal-armored, brutish type. Like his companion, he didn’t seem as bestial as most Skakdi.

Despite his puzzlement, Arisma somehow knew he was right. He began to remember tales of the desert’s dangerous creatures, and decided to go along with the Skakdi. He saw that he carried a satchel, and in it, he saw a map.

Due to the dimming light, Arisma started a small fire in the palm of his hand, and used it to read the map. The Skakdi visibly recoiled at the sight of the flames, which puzzled him.

Deciding to ignore their behavior, he wordlessly led the way. As they traveled, more of Arisma’s memory came back, and he started to notice even more oddities in his companions. They seemed shorter than they had been at first. Their faces, softer to begin with, appeared less and less savage.

It was not only until they had almost reached the edge of the desert that his memory returned fully, and that his companions were no longer Skakdi, but a pair of Toa whose armor matched his own. Mustering all his willpower, he spoke coarsely:

“Why? Why must I endure this again? Why won’t you let me be? ”

“Why should we?” they answered in unison, “It was you who placed us here. You relive the memories of those gone day after day. It is by your own conscience that you are haunted. This will not stop so easily. Surely you know that.”

And he did. He knew know. This desert was a lifeless expanse beyond the village he once protected. These were not Skakdi, had never been. They were fellow Toa, who in trying to stop him from abusing his power and retrieving a dangerous weapon, had been murdered by his hand.

Arisma closed his eyes, and opening them again, he saw it was not night, but day. He was alone. In his hands he held the charred remains of a map.

He had sought power and glory, and as a result, he had committed unspeakable crimes. Now banished to the wastelands, he relived the same vision every day, a mirage of the dead that haunt him even in his waking dreams.

[ZippyWharrgarbl]

Member Name: ZippyWharrgarbl
Theme: Visions
Word Count: 600
Story: Clairvoyance

CLAIRVOYANCE

There was a slight strangeness about the female, in her clasps and odd, slick fabrics, stretched over her armour to cover nearly the whole of her body. Her cell had three large tanks attached to it, and each of these had many pumps and filters lining the sides. The Toa within didn’t seem to mind; she was busy clawing at her Mask of Clairvoyance absently as she rocked on her heels, eyes wide and unseeing.

<The Dark Hunters rise up, striking the village when it was at its most vulnerable, the screams are deafening…>

Mad, they’d called her. She had no mind for the label, but she had known of it a week before it passed the lips of any being she knew. It was about the mask, she knew. It wouldn’t go away. It was with her forever.

<A Matoran wanders home, takes a wrong turn on the way, meets a friend, goes out for a stroll…>

The days had passed without much notice after that. It was too hard to keep track of time. She would recall talking to her Turaga one morning and find that she had spoken to the elder months later. And then came the nightmares, of dark fates befalling those she knew and those she did not. She did not sleep, she did not eat, she did not speak… and they locked her away.

<So many cheers, the Akilini player lines up the shot, and it’s a goal…>

No. There was something else to the story. She had been fighting with her teammates, and she had fallen into… no, she had fallen back, and her mask was submerged in silver liquid. Energized Protodermis. It had changed her, welded the dreaded thing to her face. But now, now it wasn’t shutting off. She was stuck with visions, and she didn’t know what was the future and what was the present anymore. Her days were an endless cycle of dark and light, with splashes of futures in between.

<There was a noise in the dark, deep in the forest the Toa was camping in. He and his friends were worried, but they wandered into the dark…>

They were worried about her. Her Toa team members rarely visited, and when they did, it was a quick visit. The Matoran taking care of her filtered her air, worried that, as a Toa of Water, she would escape using moisture from the air. She had no intention of leaving, but they still siphoned her Toa power and took precautions to weaken her.

<There was a cave, far to the south, and within, there was a tribe of savages, and their storyteller was spinning tales of dreams and dancing beams of light…>

She DID get visitors, though. Scholars, philosophers, educated beings of all sorts, seeking meaning in her jumbled words. She would attempt to answer their questions, but she was unable to stitch two words together in her frayed sentences. They left happy, in any case. And she would be left alone, in the room with the dry air.

<A desert. A desert wider than any desert anyone had known. There, strange, alien beings lived and worked in the heat and drought, as they had for many years. And one day… one day the desert would become living land, and these creatures and those of her own lands would live in harmony.>

She paused. That was a strange thought. Was it the present? She assumed not. She was in the same cell, the same air, the same dull light. Still, she pondered on it and what that future would mean.

[Maganar]

Member Name: Maganar
Theme: Visions
Word Count : 597 words
Story: The Castaway

The Steltian slave clings to the flotsam as waves battered his face. He has done so for the last several hours since those beings, members of Barraki Ehlek’s species, had risen from beneath the sea and sunk the ship where his cruel masters pushed him to toil without respite as a laborer. Now his entire life depends on a fortuitous wind sending him toward land.

And then he sees the island, rising from the horizon. He hoarsely screams in jubilation; then everything goes black. Suddenly, he sees across space and time.

A city on a sea of protodermis. Six districts that work for the whole. Thousands of inhabitants fulfilling daily tasks. Underneath, a network of circuitry. The circuitry, a central operating system. The operating system, a massive supercomputer. It measures, computes, and thinks. It will evaluate the universe.

The vision is gone. During his blackout, he has drifted nearer to the island. He remembers the dream. Nonsense. It implied that Metru Nui is a giant thought-processor for a robot – the Matoran, its nanobots. He hopes landfall is soon. Clearly it was a hallucination caused by his time at sea. Nanobots aren’t sentient; computers aren’t kios in length. Like a physical blow, he is hit with another vision.

A central energy core – a universe core. Radiant energy ravaging it in the form of energy storms. Ambient energy seeps out, powers up systems. The core, an energy source. The energy source, the subsystem. The mainframe? A massive supercomputer. It measures, computes, and thinks. It will evaluate the universe.

He is lying in the sand. Landfall. He gets up and stumbles down the beach. He’s going to make it. He isn’t dying at sea. He doesn’t see anyone. Perhaps the island is uninhabited. At least he’s on an island, even if he’s alone there. Yet, the visions nag him. So visceral and illogical, yet they felt so… real. No matter. Power cores aren’t irradiated with lightning storms; a robot isn’t big enough to be mistaken for a universe. Again, the blackness and a vision.

An organic being. The overseer. The secrets of the universe lie in his head. He maintains the heat, light, and forces to make the Great Beings’ creation whole. But in time he is no longer needed. He is exiled, chained like an animal to a rock. Fused to an island. He isn’t necessary anymore. The project is ready. The project, a robot. The robot, a massive supercomputer. It measures, computes, and thinks. It will evaluate the universe.

In his trance, his feet have taken him to a cave. He doesn’t know why, but it looks…inviting. He’s tired. And confused.

He staggers in. Suddenly panic overtakes him. Something is wrong. He doesn’t know what, but something is. He tries to run, but he can’t. His body won’t respond. Then a voice speaks in his head.

THEY CALL ME A LEGEND, A MYTH. THEY WOULD HAVE ME FORGOTTEN. The voice continues, now calmer. So be it. But I hunger for knowledge of the world outside. I’m trapped here and exiled from the universe I gave birth to. And now you are here.

Yes, something is very, very wrong.

I’ve shown you what this world truly is, but you’ll know even more. I desire to know what’s happened and I’ll do with you what I once did with that Makuta Mutran. You will know all there is to know about this universe. Of course, it will probably be too much for your feeble mind. My name is TREN KROM. Goodbye… and thank you.

The Steltian screamed for an eternity.

Edited by Maganar, May 27 2012 - 10:12 AM.

[Space: Ocean of Awe]

Member name: Space: Ocean of Awe
Theme: Visions
Story: Between worlds

A Ta matoran enters a great chamber, at the vey end sits a Toa, adorned in furs and flowery wreaths, his golden throne tattooed with images of the Order of Power. Matoran are in their rightful place among the Rahi. "Your Greatness," the Matoran says, placing a small parcel at his master's feet. "Your Tribute."

The Great Toa peers disdainfully at this small bundle. "Do you really believe that such a...thing, could even be fit for the Rahi? Remove this trash from my sight!" The Toa finishes, speaking to an Attendant. Turning to his Royal Guards, he continues, "remove this Matoran scum from my living space. Perhaps the dungeon will teach him a thing or two about respect to his Superiors."

The Matoran's expression of shock turns to outrage. "Your time is limited, Toa! Soon, you and your Toa friends will be put in your rightful place. From the Darkness whence you came, you shall return, all hail the Otherworlders!" He allows himself to be dragged out of the throne room, and is thrown into a dungeon.
---
Misak's eyes shoot open. It is a bright day, and birds chirp in the distance. Worried Matoran faces swim at the edges of his vision. "Where am I?"

Talek, a Toa of Fire, shoulders his way through the crowd. "Misak! What happened?" He extends his hand to the Matoran on the ground. "Thank Mata Nui you're alright..."

Misak recoils at the Toa’s hand.

"What's the matter? I’m a Toa, I'm not going to hurt you." says the Toa of Fire, taken aback at the fury in the Matoran's eyes. "I'm your old friend, talk to me! Step back, Matoran - he needs space."

Slowly, recognition dawns on the Matoran's face. "Talek. Where am I? You ordered me into- no, that wasn’t real, was it?”

The bewildered Toa kneels beside the Matoran, his voice is full of worry. “What isn’t real, Misak? I never told you, let alone ordered you, to do anything! I ought to get you indoors...”

“No, it’s okay. I feel fine now, it’s happened before...but I saw you, sitting on that golden throne-I mean, it looked like you but...you would never order me into the dungeons. Wait, I’ll explain from the beginning.” And so he does, ending with the threat of a revolution in this corrupt universe.

After a few moments, the Toa speaks. “This is no dream...it couldn’t possibly have anything to do with our universe, could it? You must tell the Turaga. He will know.” He offers the Matoran his hand again, this time Misak takes it. Suddenly Talek stiffens, he feels as if he is being crushed from all sides...

The Toa opens his eyes. All is dark but one lightstone embedded in the opposite wall, damp with mould. Beside him lies the Matoran. “This can’t be...Misak? Misak! Is this the place you spoke of, that you saw?”

The Matoran sits up. “Yes...somebody is coming!”

Three pares of feet echo through the dungeon. Voices can be heard. “Guards! Have all the gates been secured? All posts occupied? We must be ready for any threat.”

Soon a body is seen to match the voice. The footsteps cease, and Toa looks upon Toa, not a difference between them to be seen. “You-you’re...we’re the same, but that’s not possible!”

Talek stands inside the cell. Though just as confused as his doppelgänger, he doesn’t let on. “Fancy meeting you here, brother.” The Toa smiles, and steps toward his villainous counterpart. “I would never have recognized myself with such a black heart.”

Word count: 599 words

Edited by Space: Ocean of Awe, May 27 2012 - 01:32 PM.

[Kumata]

I love how so many people are squeezing in as many words as they can and getting to 599.

[Ilyusha Blokfase]

Truly.

I'm slightly saddened with this contest, however. I'm not going to be able to make it all twelve days because I'm going to be gone over all of next week.

Ah, the woes of suddenly announced contests.

[Parazan]

Member Name: Parazan
Theme: Visions
Word Count: 507 words
Story: Visions of the end of Zarian

Parazan walked into the Turaga's hut.
"Je'vik, will our civilization ever end?"
"I do not know. Only a Kanoki mask of Visions will tell."
"Then I will go find one."
"No, Parazan! You might never come back!"
"Our species will end soon. I need to know when."
"Goodbye, then."
"Goodbye..."

"Parazan walked through dangerous terrain. His journey took him weeks to just get to the coast of the island. Now it was time to get from Zarian to Fasryl, some 500 miles away. Parazan could not find any boat, so he bought a boat from a nearby fishing village. He hired a crew made up of 5 Matoran-like creatures called Prylings (the 2nd of a metamorphosis change, of which Parazan was rank 4). They began their journey on August 19th, 1234 ITTBT (In the Time Before Time).

"Lord Parazan, we see an island in the distance. Is it Fasryl?"
"From the looks of it, no. But let's go to the island."
"Yes, Lord Parazan."

The island was once home to a race of bipedal Rahi, which ate anyone that ended up crashing into the island. Even though these Rahi have lost their intelligence, they can still be found on the island.

"Sir, this island is EXTRAORDINARY! All of this has been preserved like it was a time capsule! Let us go on."
"We shall only advance up to the heart of the island, and then return to the ship."

"Sir, this island is found nowhere on the map!"
"Calculate the shape of the island, and then draw it on the map."
"Sir, we cannot."
"And why not?"
"Because this island doesn't exist."

"Explain to me how it doesn't exist."
"We can't calculate it. We can't find it on radar, either. But the center of the island is emitting high amounts of radiation."
"Time to get out of here. Who knows what could be there!"

"Sir, we were on the island for 28 days. Everyone that stayed behind on the ship is dead. The radiation must've caused our clocks to stop."
"Everyone, get on the ship! we're leaving!"

"Sir, we are currently entering sea monster waters. Shall we go in?"
"Yes. It is worth the risk."

3 hours later...

"Lord Parazan, out of 20 crew members, counting you, only 8 remain. 7 died when a Sea Monster attacked us."
"Go on, go on until we reach the island of visions."

1 week later...

"Sir, we have reached the island. Now you must climb to the top of the tower in order to obtain the mask."

Parazan reached the top of the tower. He put on the mask. He felt the energies of the mask rushing through him. And then he saw the vision.

He saw the Ocean drying up. He saw Forests burning. He saw strange biomechanical creatures. And then, the ground shook. Out of the ashes came a giant Robot. He saw how the Robot was overpowered. And then the vision ended.

Edited by Parazan, May 27 2012 - 07:49 PM.

[Katuko]

Hm, yeah, I wish I wasn't in the middle of my exam work. I also find myself either unable to stop writing once I start. I had to trim away a long, unnecessary scene from my posted story before I met the limit. Slightly annoying, given that I actually wanted it in there. Oh well.

[toa electro]

what will be the prizes

[VeoiTheRascal]

Member Name: VeoiTheRascal
Theme: Visions
Word Count: 608
Story: Parallels

The tension crackled in the parched air of the brightly lit room, enough to be felt through muffled waters of a crystal tank. The serpent restrained its particles from fidgeting in the stagnant waters a few days too old, staring back at severe eyes through scratched glass. It was difficult to breath, staying in one area of his prison for so long. A twisted mouth pulled up in a sneer. Not that he would be telling her that.

Beyond the crystal barrier, the being merely narrowed her eyes.

“Well?”

If the eel had a body with lungs he would have swarmed and devoured those yellow eyes. As it was, the green serpent scoffed instead, quickly dispersing his protodites throughout the tank.

“Spare me, dear false Toa, and find some other low life willing to sell themselves so cheaply.”

For a moment, the Toa’s eyes darkened in rage. And then it was gone, replaced by a pronged device rippling electric current into the sea serpent’s watery prison.

The snake screamed in agony.

When the prong was lifted out, a green cloud of protodites coalesced at the bottom of the tank. The screaming stopped.

Eyes glimmering with satisfaction, the Toa spoke almost nonchalantly, “Cheaply?” She raised her mask a fraction, “I’d think freedom for a job of tour guide is sufficient reward. After all, doesn’t your kind commit treachery after treachery to gain freedom?”

“Yes,” Whispered the cloud as it slowly merged into its elongated shape. “But I require a little something more with my freedom.”

Drawing ever so slightly to the crystal tank the cobalt Toa raised a masked ridge.

“And that would be?”

Trying to keep focus amidst the heat and thinning oxygen, the murky form of the Skakdi grinned with pearly teeth for all he was worth, “Your cold, dead body of course, Helryx. ”

Suddenly the tank was bone dry. Not prepared for the loss of water, the skakdi could do nothing but choke. Helryx let him flounder for a few seconds before grabbing the suffocating creature and bringing its face level with her mask. It was dangerously neutral. The serpent’s mind reeled. The heat was damning.

“It’s funny that you assume you have a choice in this matter, Zaktan. I am letting you have this bargain out of charity. I can just as easily force you to comply. Choose wisely.”

With that the ancient toa of water dropped Zaktan into the empty tank, waiting for the skakdi to respond. But he wouldn’t -- couldn’t. He could not give in to this helplessness, this humiliation, for he could not understand how he had gotten to this. As Zaktan laid on the bare floor of his crystal prison, he could only think in despair as he gasped and gasped and gasped. How, how?

How?

--------

With a sharp breath, Zaktan sat ramrod straight. For minutes, he could only gulp down sweet breath after breath, frantic eyes roving around the tree root gnarled barrow. Then the skakdi sagged in relief against earthen wall, clutching his shoulder where a dart had grazed passed.

A vision, only hallucination. Attacked after talking to informer. Poison dart, hallucinate something that never happened.

The emerald skakdi covered his eyes and sighed.

Didn’t enter fully. Would be dead. I need to be more careful.

With that, Zaktan collected what few possessions he had on the ground and quietly crept out of his hideout. He had a rendezvous point to be and didn’t want to worry Thokan by being abnormally late. He did accomplish what he set out to do. The skakdi frowned at the meaning of the connection between his hallucination and new lead.

Helryx.

Edited by VeoiTheRascal, May 27 2012 - 08:13 PM.

[Darthbrandon]

Am I allowed to enter now? Cause theres just under two hours left.

[Velox]

what will be the prizes

They will be announced at a later date, as stated in the main post.

Am I allowed to enter now? Cause theres just under two hours left.

Yes, we will still be accepting entries until 11:59PM EST (a little less than two hours).

[Sumiki]

Member Name: Sumiki
Theme: Visions
Word Count: 596
Story: Specters of the Charred Forest

Kapura liked it here.

Amongst the sharp angles, darkened shadows, and complex burned odor of the Charred Forest, some found revolt, most found apathy, and the vast majority saw uselessness. Not him - not now, not ever. There was nothing here, and he looked upon it, and he saw that it was peaceful. Nowhere else upon the entire island could he have a place of quiet. He could practice in peace, and he could keep his thoughts to himself.

Sometimes, though, he did not practice. On the most desolate of all desolate days, he eschewed what he was going to do, instead just sitting in a tiny clearing in the Charred Forest, where the trees were even taller and his sense of aloneness was even further amplified.

On these types of days, he sat, and sat for long periods of time, contemplating the nature of good and evil, Mata Nui and Makuta, light and darkness, what had come to be and what might come to pass, and what today had brought that impacted his thoughts of the past and elucidated - at least in part - the future. But that was not the reason he would come here. Occasionally, he would get brief thoughts, as if he was reaching back into the past and pulling bits out, illuminating them with a flash before subsiding into oblivion. It was worth it, he thought, to stay here just for those moments, because they would make him feel whole again, even if it was only for a moment.

Today, he was sitting down once again, feeling the charred earth underneath him, almost feeling the weight of the shadows. He was at peace, but yet he felt restless, more restless than he had ever been. He closed his eyes, feeling like he was falling back, and back, and further back ...

His flight took him up, above the forest below. All of his Matoran brothers and sisters were flying with him up into the sky above, climbing higher than the highest of circling birds. He called out to them, but they were not listening - their heartlights had slowed to halts, and they had curled up in tiny balls, morphing into silver spheres. The Island of Mata Nui was far below, almost to the point where the Wahis became indistinguishable. As soon as they had, the entire Island rushed towards them, faster and faster, until they would surely die.

The island opened up, leaving a vast sea below. A much smaller island was visible, and it became clearer as they came to it ...

He came down lightly on his feet in this metropolis, as his ball-encased friends came down to rest around him. Above him, two large stars winked and illuminated the city.

Tentacles, brown and mottled as they were, reached for him, swatting away the massive spider webs that hung everywhere. He could not move, and he could not feel, as he too was inside one of those curious spheres. They engulfed him, and he was on the move again, staring into two gigantic orange eyes. Evil, embodied in laughter, burned its way through his head, echoing louder, and louder, and louder still ...

He gasped, exhaling loudly through his mouth. The spiked texture of the burnt earth had dug into the armor of his back, and he could feel droplets of sweat evaporating off of his organic parts.

He knew, now, that there was a world beyond, and that there would be redemption and sacrifice, and that he was just only a pawn - if that! - in a universe so vast as to be unimaginable.

He knew.

[Baltarc]

Member Name: Balta
Theme: Visions
Word Count: 417
Story: Shadow of the Wind

I stood on the lip of the crater, gazing down into the unfathomable darkness of its immeasurable depths. We were here. We had done it. A smile forming on my mask, I looked up, turning to my companions.

But of the three, only one was present – Quintus. The sunlight glinted off his green armor, but something about the way it reflected was...wrong. I looked into his face, which bore a peculiar expression, a satisfied sort of smile that I couldn’t quite place. “Where are the others, Quintus?” I asked. My heart rate rose rapidly, though I wasn’t quite sure why.

The world spun. I felt like I was hanging upside down for a split second and then as if I was falling and then-

I stepped back in horror. In Quintus’ place hovered a dark form, a roiling mass of pure shadow. From its depths came a terrible sound – laughter, laughter in Quintus’ voice, the same laugh I had come to know so well from the easygoing Le-Toa. “You have done well, my friend.” The words echoed in my mind, the words in my friend’s voice, but not his voice. I got the feeling I should run, but my feet didn’t seem to want to listen. The mass of shadow seethed, a violent ripple passing through it, and a bolt of its substance flew from it, impossibly fast, and struck me in the chest-

My eyes snapped open. I was breathing heavily, my heart racing. Quintus stood over me, a worried expression on his face. “You all right, man?” he asked. I nodded slowly. “Well, if you’re sure...” he shrugged. “Get some sleep. There’s still a few hours ‘til your watch.”

I wanted to take his advice – badly. I was tired, extremely tired, and we had a long day tomorrow. But instead I rose. “Nah, that’s all right. I’ll take it from here.”

Quintus looked at me curiously, then shrugged again. “If you say so.” Within a few moments, he was sound asleep.

I gazed out over the clearing, looking upon the sleeping forms of my companions. The dream...could it really have been just that? My gaze fell upon Jotham. He had warned me, privately, of course, about taking Quintus with us. Maybe my imagination was just catching up with me, and I was subconsciously inventing things based on his warning?

Yes. Yes, that must have been it. I sat back against the tree, settling myself in a comfortable position, preparing for the long wait ‘til morning.

[Toa of Dancing]

Dang it, this is gonna feel really rushed. The original draft was 794 words... Ah well. Hopefully I trimmed it well enough while keeping it legible.



Member Name: Ballistic Jello Pickles (Toa of Dancing)
Theme: Visions
Word Count: 598
Story: Predictions of the Unpredicted

•••••

Pleasant dreams, he said? No catch? Should’ve known better. Karzahni, that Vortixx was a random passerby. She should have realized that. She should’ve refused the offer.

It looked like a normal Suletu. Kanohi of that type didn’t generally have side effects, except for the fact that secrets were generally spoiled on accident. Not too bad, and a generally useful mask.

Problem was, some random Toa had come up to Fawae the other day and offered to give her this Suletu. He said it was specially forged to give the wearer pleasant dreams. That wasn’t too abnormal; after all, the art of slightly modifying masks in their forging was becoming rather common. The moment she handed him the widgets after she tested it, he was walking down the road again.

All this ran through her mind in those last seconds.

The night she bought the mask, she had returned from her patrol and greeted her team. A few had oohed and awed at the new mask, a few had said it was a waste, and the leader–Corus–seemed flat-out indifferent. Eventually, the Toa remaining in the camp fell fast asleep, with Fawae thinking of how good the following day would hopefully be.

She and Corus were the only ones awake in camp. Her leader informed her that they were all either gathering supplies or switching patrols. The early dawn painted a beautiful sky. The Rahi of the morning created a peaceful noise. The surrounding foliage let off a sweet aroma. Corus offhandedly commented, “Great morning. Hope it will be just as great of a day.”

Fawae awoke. The morning was picturesque. Corus glanced at her and offhandedly commented.

She nodded and replied, “Yea–wait, didn’t you just say that?”

“...No? You okay, Fawae?”

“Um... yeah. Fine. Just... Déjà vu.”

Corus shrugged and kept going about his work. The rest of the day was rather uneventful, but still peaceful and somewhat fun. Fawae found the coincidence that she had dreamed reality before it happened quite odd, but not anything to really be concerned about. That night she fell asleep while pondering the possibilities. “Oh well... Probably just a freak occurrence...”

Running. Some kind of freakish monster had just consumed Corus, and now it was chasing the rest of the present team. Where had this come from? There wasn’t any warning!

Fawae jumped from her sleeping pad. This time she was the second awake. One of her brothers was busy stoking the fire. Not that he really needed to, being a toa of fire. He just liked playing with fire, which the rest of the team found amusing.

An explosion rang through her ears, accompanied by bloinding light and searing heat. When her vision cleared, Fawae saw a gigantic, freakish monster. She screamed for everyone to wake up, and they were quickly engaged in combat.

It didn’t last long. The creature that had seemingly materialized from nothing was completely immune to elemental attacks; in fact, it seemed to become stronger with each blow received. Its maw clenched down upon two members of the team, but Corus wedged his quarterstaff between its crushing jaws just in time to save them.

Then he was gone. That set them running. This freakish monster had just consumed Corus, and now it was chasing the rest of the present team. She tripped and fell. In a moment, she felt teeth, and then nothing.

Fawae jolted awake, screaming. Her brothers leaped from their mats, asking what was wrong. After a few seconds of heavy breathing, she began to reply... and she couldn’t remember why she screamed.

[Darthbrandon]

Cooked this up in an hour. It is told from the Point of View of Vakama as he searched for missing matoran during the Morbuzakh arc. It is, however, not completely canon.

I hope everyone likes it!

EDIT: I had to fix one grammatical mistake.

Member Name: Darthbrandon
Theme: Visions
Word Count: 599
Story: Vanished

My name is Toa Vakama. I have been on this case five days. My duty is to protect the Matoran, but I have strayed away from it.

It started on a rather hot day in Ta-Metru. I was working in the Mask Making Factory when one of my workers, Nuhrii, asked for a day off.
I didn’t think much of it, until he never showed up the next day. Even worse, he had vanished. I searched his house, asked his friends about him, and even searched the other Metrus. Nothing…

I went to bed one night, three days after Nuhrii went missing. I had a dream. I saw vivid images of vines crashing through the city, Matoran running helplessly, and finally, an image of Toa Lhikan. I woke up with a fright, and finally called a meeting with all Toa Metru.

We met at Lhikan’s Suva, the place we always met. I found out that the same problem had occurred at every other Metru: Missing Matoran.

“Is there a suspect?” I said as the other Toa looked at me strangely.

“A suspect?” Matau replied, staring me down, “You assume someone abducted them?”

I suddenly had a vision. It was just like my dream. I watched as the vines struck the city, taking Matoran by the millions. I saw Toa Lhikan, placing a Toa Stone in my hand. Obviously I had to save these Matoran, but I needed the help of the other Toa.

“Do you think it has anything to do with all the vines appearing throughout the city?” Nokama asked.

“Possibly,” I answered.

Suddenly a large vine crashed through the ground, knocking me off my feet. I had another vision, I saw Po-Metru. Standing in the middle of a large vine, was a Matoran. I couldn’t make out who it was, only that he wasn’t being attacked. Perhaps he was leading other Matoran towards the plants. Then I heard Toa Nuju’s voice.

“Vakama! Wake up!” Nuju shouted, breaking me away from the vision.

He helped me to my feet. I dusted myself off, then looked strait at Onewa, The Toa of Stone.

“Onewa, do you know any Matoran in your Metru, that was always anxious, trying to leave work?” I asked, “A Matoran that was never around?”

I thought about it. It seemed possible.

Onewa looked at me with a confused look.

“I’m not sure I know of such a Matoran,” Onewa said.

He stood in the middle of the wrecked Temple, pondering my question.

“Wait,” Onewa looked me in the eyes “There is Ahkmou. He was always leaving Po-Metru. He said that it was business, but I never quite believed him. “

I had met Ahkmou before. He worked at a Matoran Chronicle, writing tablets on Metru Nui History.

“Let’s go to Po-Metru,” I said “I have a plan”.

For an entire day, we rode in the Transport Tubes. These large tubes stretched across the City, powered by Liquid Protodermic. This transport system was run and organized by Kongu of Le-Metru, who had just dissappeared as well.

Because of this, we had to start the tubes ourself. Afterwards, we went on a slow ride to the very edge of Po-Metru. We arrived at the home of Ahkmou, finding the Matoran hiding in a closet.

We questioned him, and after a long talk, he admitted to everything.

He told us about the Giant Morbuzakh Plant that had been terrorizing the city, using Matoran as Workers in the Great Furnace of Ta-Metru.

I had one last vision. The destruction of Metru Nui.

It was time for me to act.

Edited by Darthbrandon, May 27 2012 - 10:08 PM.

[What?]

What?

Visions

503

Takutanuva arose, a gigantic figure with contradictory powers and passions. He held the powers of life and of shadow, of light and of death. But he was enlightened; he knew and accepted the greater good over his own personal ambition. And he knew the future. With his enhanced mind, he could see the future laid out before it with disturbing precision. The Takua part of him perceived it as a factory layout; piece after piece added down the production line of time. Most parts were insignificant in themselves and yet required for the larger and less subtle adjustments to the different futures.

One was a universe of darkness, of Makuta-worshipping Matoran haunted by Rakshi and more terrible, though frequently less substantial, creatures. He saw how this would come to be. It was revolting; a travesty of everything as it should be. And once this state was achieved, it would be irreversible. Every day would be a step deeper in the descent into darkness.

The other future began similarly, and even near its fulfillment it appeared that evil had triumphed. Takutanuva saw Makuta, that dark side of himself, conquer the Matoran universe. There was no hope in the future. Unless--

Takutanuva knew his minds, none better. With his myriad of powers, he could manipulate them slightly as well. He planted a thought deep inside the Makuta section of himself: rather than simply destroying Mata Nui as previously planned, Makuta would instead place his spirit inside the Mask of Life.

Of such small decisions are futures made.

Takutanuva performed this devious operation on his own mind, even while lifting the stone to grant the Matoran access to Metru Nui. He knew that such an unstable being as himself could not last for more than a short time. He was composed of powers, characters, and convictions so opposed that he could almost feel the pull to be separated even now. But it was imperative he be successful, or the world would be dropped into shadow eternal.

The rock was lifted; the Matoran and Toa Nuva flooded through the gap. Takutanuva felt himself bending, fading, breaking apart. He had mere seconds left.

With a desperate, delicate twist, he completed the self-psycho-surgery, and the gate fell.

As the Matoran and Toa Nuva gathered in the other side of the barrier, wondering at the new land opening before them, Makuta felt himself regaining consciousness. He knew he had been... different... while under the control of the Mask of Light and Takanuva's personality, but none of that remained in his own personality, and only vague memories. He knew that he had considered the option to work towards a begtter universe, or towards his own ideal. He felt all the horror and tyranny of his own plan rise up in him.

Makuta gauged his emotional reaction to this. He felt nothing but... blackness. So he knew he as evil as he had always been.

And Makuta smiled. How delightful my dark future will be, he thought.

Nothing can stop me now.

Edited by What?, May 27 2012 - 11:20 PM.

[Excelsior]

Excelsior

Visions

Word Count: 594

Deactivating his Mask of Vision, Toa Tiro of Iron he turned to his teammate. "Nothing, Poro. I checked everything within a kio radius, including the sky and the tunnels in the mountain. All I saw was a Matoran trade caravan that seems to be on the way here." He paused. "Anything to fear from them, do you think?"


His teammate looked uncertain. "I'm... not sure. Where's Matakite?"


"Right here," came a voice behind them. They turned. A tall, Mahiki-wearing Toa of Earth had just come out of the ground. "Something wrong?"


"I had one of my visions," Poro told him. "I only remember glimpses, but it was bad." He shivered.


Matakite looked grave. Poro's teammates had learned, years ago, to listen to his Mask of Clairvoyance. "And what did you say at the time?" he asked. "Tiro, were you there?"


Tiro shook his head. "He told me afterward so I could scan," he replied. "He was alone when it happened." He activated his mask again. "But I sent a messenger to Mahara - I thought she could help. She's coming now."


In a few moments, Mahara, Toa Ekara of Lightning, came into the others' view. She hurried to join the rest of her team.


"I got your note, Tiro," she said. "Did you find anything?"


"Only a Matoran trade caravan," he said again. "Matakite wants to know what Poro said in the trance."


She nodded. "Where were you?" she asked Poro.


"On the wall - alone, unfortunately," he replied. He held out a small, half-formed sculpture. "But I was working on this at the time."


She nodded again, and took it, activating her Mask of Psychometry.


She stood there, searching, straining for that one point in the stone's past.


After several moments, she looked up at her brothers.


"I found it," she said. "'Mercenaries, slaves - darkness...'that was the first thing he said. After 'darkness,' he started shaking, violently." She paused in remembrance. "Then he said 'Darkness... evil... and hidden in...' - he stopped again there - 'in that we have sworn to protect.'"


"'In that we have sworn to protect'?" Matakite repeated. The words had chilled him. "Is this darkness ... is it in the village? Or-"

"Matoran!" Poro exclaimed. The others looked at him. "I still don't remember, no. But think about it - what else could it be but Matoran?"

There was a slight pause.

"Perhaps," Matakite said, "you should take a closer look at that caravan, Tiro."

The Iron Toa was already examining it. "Quite a few guards, all well armed," he reported. "But this is a dangerous area... Six wagons, large, pulled by Ussals... Cargo..." his voice changed slightly. "I think we have a problem."

"What is it?" Matakite demanded.

"The cargo seems to be composed mainly of weapons. And some machines I can't really identify." He paused. "I'd call that evidence enough."

"Perhaps," Matakite replied. "But we have sworn to protect them, and we can't attack - especially on suspicion. Whoever organized this... infiltration may have counted on that."

"But attack is not our only option."

He nodded at his brothers and sister. "I'm going outside. Keep an eye on me, Tirohanga. You'll know what to do."

A week later, a party of utterly demoralized Matoran raiders found their way out of the mountainous maze they had been trapped in - a maze made of equal parts solid walls, and haunting visions, courtesy of Matakite's Great Mahiki.

The Barraki's plans of conquest had received a slight check, thanks to the various visions of the Toa Ekara.

[Ilyusha Blokfase]

Welp, good luck to all of you. I know I've already lost this, haha.

Ah well, it's good fun nonetheless.

[///dotcom///]

I was wondering, does each entry have to be a self-contained story? Or could, for example, my entry for the 3rd theme be a continuation of my first entry?

[Despair]

Pretty sure that question was answered in one of the two topics. Anyway, the answer I saw was that yes, you can. However, your entries will still be judged individually.

Hope that helps!